


Dancing With Wolves

by orphan_account



Series: One Boy In All The World [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Stiles, Buffy AU, Derek Needs To Use His Words, M/M, Sexual Tension, Slayer!Stiles, Stiles-centric, Watcher!Deaton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dude you can’t abandon me cause I’m pretty sure Derek’s going to take his shirt off and then his muscles are going to be getting all rippled and sweaty while we’re doing Tia Chi. And I won’t be able to help myself. You know what the code for private training is? Sex.” </p><p>“Don’t you want that to happen?” </p><p>“That’s besides the point,” Stiles whines, “I have to save the world in under sixteen hours, I can’t do that when I’m distracted by Derek’s babulous body.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles’s gets the text during P.E when Coach Finstock decides to teach them self-defence. Stiles silently promised himself not use Slayer power. His muscles are still aching from last night’s patrol and a warm shower hadn’t relieved the tension.

 

Deaton’s already freaking out (but the man takes a leaf from Derek’s book and doesn’t show it) because some new demon called Lagos is trying to get some ugly glove thing so he can take over the world same old same.

 

Deaton is the only person he’s on speaking terms with because; he didn’t try to kill him, or let him be tortured, or leave out of a plan he’d never agree to or not let him kill Peter Hale. However Stiles is kind of weak when it comes to not talking to someone and breaks the second he get’s a text from Derek saying: _Training straight after school. Don’t be late._

 

Stiles’s curses Deaton because he’s pretty sure his watcher is in on it. He really doesn’t want to have a training session with Derek unless it evolves the pack who make Stiles look good meaning Derek won’t make him do press-ups. And yeah, training means a very distracting shirtless and sweaty Derek and Stiles’s slayer brain can’t handle that and focus on avoiding the throes of death at the same time.      

 

Plus after the scarily-graphic picture Deaton showed him of Lagos in his demon bible Stiles wants to be at his A game.

 

When Stiles complains about this to Scott fails to see the problem.

 

“I’m not going to another one of Derek’s training sessions till I’m sure he won’t snap my neck for asking for a water break.” Scott tells him like a totally wooss.

 

“Dude you can’t abandon me cause I’m pretty sure Derek’s going to take his shirt off and then his muscles are going to be getting all rippled and sweaty while we’re doing Tia Chi. And I won’t be able to help myself. You know what the code for private training is? Sex.”

 

“Don’t you want that to happen?”

 

“That’s besides the point,” Stiles whines, “I have to save the world in under sixteen hours, I can’t do that when I’m distracted by Derek’s babulous body.”

 

Scott just shrugs, “Sorry man.”

 

“You’re a terrible friend.” Stiles pouts.

 

“McCall, Stilinski, get a move on.” Coach shouts at them and they jump to do so but Scott being the prat he goes with Isaac. “I don’t really fancy having to realign my shoulder for the third time this week.”He tells him. 

 

Stiles just glowers at him, hello he never used his Slayer powers in lacrosse his control is much better than Scott’s and Deaton has already given him the talk about using powers for personal gain. 

 

It reminds Stiles of his grade school days when he was the last person chosen for dodgeball. Everyone else seems to have a partner but him. Coach blows his whistle at him, which seems to be a favourite habit of his. “Stilinski are you deaf?”

 

Stiles has a feeling this question is rhetorical so shakes his head. “Go with…” And Coach’s eyes scan the hall then light up with joy like a child on Christmas, “Jackson.” Stiles is pretty sure teachers aren’t indirectly but nevertheless intentionally hurt their students.

 

Jackson looks just as about delighted as Coach Finstock. Stiles, clenches his hand, cracking his knuckles. Next to him Scott hisses, “Remember you’re not meant to be able to take someone with twice your amount of muscle weight.”

 

“Buzz kill.” Stiles counters.

 

Jackson may be Mister Badass Werewolf but pretty much most of the last few months are filled with memory gaps for him. And before that Stiles supposes Jackson just thought he was some human helping out his best friend. According to Scott, Stiles smells no different than any other human, except from the occasional scent of dirt, wood and ash. Jackson and Stiles really don’t have the kind of relationship where he’s going to sit him down and explain to him what a slayer is. But Jackson has eyes and probably realises that yes Stiles can handle himself.   

 

What he doesn’t know is Stiles can handle himself very well even when it comes to werewolves.

 

Coach is pretty must teaching them how to flip someone over if they were to be attacked from behind. Stiles remembers this move fondly. Deaton taught it to him right after showing him the correct way to stake a vamp. Unsurprisingly Stiles picked up on all the taekwondo and kickboxing pretty quickly. And honestly Stiles would have no problem taking a new Beta werewolf like Jackson.   

 

“Stilinski my grandmother can lift more weight than you.” Ah yes the Grandmother comparison Coach’s favourite. Stiles tries to act all meek but it’s very hard when Jackson is laughing in his ear. “Yeah Stilinski put your back into it.”

 

Stiles tries a few weak tugs for affect, “not my fault your fat.” He hisses.

 

He’s smirking Stiles can tell. “It’s all muscle.” Some of their classmates along from them are successfully flipping over their partners but none of their technic or speed is enough to impress Coach. “You’re not a little bit impressed?” Jackson asks him and Stiles scoffs.

 

“If I was Derek I would have never bitten you in the first place asshole.”

 

Jackson doesn’t rises to bait in fact out of all the newly turned werewolves Jackson has the most handle on his anger. “Jealous.”     

 

“Not particularly.” Stiles grunts. Coach is circling back towards them.

 

“I think you are.” Jackson says conversationally obviously trying to get under Stiles’s skin. Jackson may not get as angry as the others had, but his ego has just about doubled in size and he’s always looking for a fight spends most of his time in his wolf form using up his energy running in the wood and terrorizing forest animals. Scott had asked Derek about it and apparently it’s common in people or born werewolves with overconfident personalities. Derek spends most of his time having to beat Jackson down to stop him form hurting the others in the pack. Derek is still the Alpha so Jackson would never challenge him in real life, but in training Jackson is all too happy to jump at the opportunity to challenge his fellow Betas. 

 

But right now he’s challenging Stiles and he blames it on the fact that his gym clothes probably smell like both Isaac and Scott. “You’re jealous cause I get to spend more time with Derek than you do.”

 

When Stiles pushes himself up Jackson reacts on instinct, pulling Stiles up with him. Stiles has a moment to feel the uncomfortable pressure of Jackson’s arm around his neck and as he comes back down he uses the momentum to flip Jackson over his shoulder onto the mat.

 

There’s utter silence after the sound of Jackson hitting the mat and his grunt of pain. Out of all the shocked faces Coach looks the most surprised.

 

“Stilinski,” he starts an expression on his face like he’s going to ask Stiles to take a drug test to rule out steroids. “I think the wrestling team might be your true calling.”

 

 

.

 

 

Even though the pack are working hard to rebuild the Hale house there’s no way it’s ready for living in let alone training. So Derek still inhabits the tunnels with Isaac, Boyd and Peter and Erica when she isn’t staying at her parent’s house. But right now when Stiles comes trudging down the stairs with a bag filled with stakes, various knifes and the axe he nicked off of the Argents, the place is empty.

 

The lights above him flicker slightly not ominous at all.

 

No way Derek forgot about their training session when he was probably the one who suggested it to Deaton.

 

In the corner of his eyes Stiles sees a blur and his head snaps round as he walks warily towards it – like a stupid horror movie stereotype – ready for anything.

 

“Derek?” Stiles calls quietly.

 

He’s not prepared for the sudden blur of black and large snapping teeth to jump out at him. His breath is knocked out of him the second the two hundred pound wolf collides with him.   

 

“Oi back off Cujo.” Stiles wheezes, trying to push the giant black wolf off him before his ribs crack. Derek eventually moves away but his hackles stay risen, his ears prinked right up, and he crouches slightly like he’s ready to pounce, irises blazing red.

 

Stiles really doesn’t want to play the role of the huntsman and cut Derek open with his axe cause he’s pretty sure sourwolf would bite his face off, he’s too pretty dammit. Derek begins to sniff around Stiles’s bag and at first he thinks it’s the weapons that have sparked his interest but it turns out to be the leather jacket Stiles had dropped next to it.

 

When Derek’s tail start wagging Stiles promises himself he will do all in his power to remind Derek of this moment.     

 

Derek spares the jacket a few seconds before his large woolfie teeth are wrapped around the handle of his axe. “No bad Derek, my axe is not a chew toy.”  

 

Derek’s growl would be a lot scarier if he didn’t have the awkwardness of an axe between his teeth. Derek chucks his axe spending it skidding across the tunnel floor and Stiles watches it as it goes. He turns back to Derek with a smirk on his face the Alpha still in his dominant pose but with a wagging tail. “You’re on Hooch.”  

 

Derek is off with a flash taking the wide route obviously trying to cut Stiles off before he gets to his axe. Stiles just races directly for it but Derek’s much faster than him of course but Stiles has enough momentum to jump over the black wolf as he attempts to block his way. Stiles can practically feel Derek snapping at his heels as he soars over him.  

 

“Ha-ha!” Stiles shouts with glee when he gets his hands on the axe. What he isn’t expecting his to get body-full of sexy muscly human Derek colliding with him this time and knocking him to the ground.  

 

“You idiot,” Stiles says slapping Derek’s chest (oh jeez he’s shirtless) then Derek garbs his wrist and pins it to the ground. “You could’ve ran into my axe.”

 

Derek doesn’t say anything just pants slightly out of breath and sweaty also, check. Shirtless and sweaty this is turning into exactly what Stiles didn’t need (but desperately wants in a horney sixteen-year-old why). Then he suddenly realises something else. “You’re not wearing pants are you?” Stiles says looking anywhere but at Derek as his face flushes with heat. Derek doesn’t reply again because he’s _the_ man of few words and relies on growling and acts of violence to get his thoughts and feelings across. “Get off me please.” Stiles demands quietly.

 

Derek thankfully (and not so much) gets off him and Stiles’s sees a flash of Derek’s ass before he’s turns around waiting for the guy to finish putting his pants on. “You know sixteen isn’t out of the realm of possibility to have a heart attack.” Stiles tells him.

 

“You should be prepared for anything, at anytime.” Derek snaps finally decent in a pair of loose black (as always) trousers. “The Alpha pack aren’t going to wait for the most convenient time.”    

 

Stiles rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, a common stance for him. “So is that the point of this little training session, I’ve got Deaton for that you know.” Stiles points out. “I’ve been doing this for almost two years, I am quite able to fight my own battles.” 

 

Derek’s neck bones crack as he stretches it. “Don’t disappoint me then.”

 

_Oh I won’t_ Stiles thinks head filled with very dirty thoughts so he’s not exactly ready for the right hook Derek throws. See this is what he meant about not being able to concentrate on the throes of death thing.  The next punch Derek makes Stiles is ready for and is able to bat his hand away with a well-aimed kick.

 

The thing about werewolves is unlike Stiles they’ve had no formal training, they don’t fight in specific formats or all know martial arts (like vampires suddenly do), they rely on their strength and werewolf assets. Once they have they have you at a disadvantage they’ll you use all their strength to beat you to a pulp and/or tear you to shreds.

 

Derek’s slightly more resourceful than that with his fancy flips and spins but that doesn’t chance the fact that he relies mostly on his strength and woolfie instincts.

 

Stiles being the slayer has multiple martial art tactics under his belt, no matter what he’s doing, who he’s fighting his first instinct is to reach for a weapon. _Never think,_ Deaton always tells him _always react because that small hesitation could turn you from alive to the other thing._

 

It only takes one.

 

The next punch Derek tries for has Stiles ducking and dancing out of his reach while Derek stumbles with the force. Stiles then surprises him with a high kick aimed for his face but Derek sees this coming dodging out of the way. When Derek is on his feet again but only just finding his balance Stiles uses a low sweep kick to knock him off his feet. 

 

This time its Stiles turn to be on top (err yeah) pinning Derek’s hands to the ground.

 

“Satisfied?” Stiles mocks at the Alpha.

 

“Not quite.” Derek retorts before getting his arms out of Stiles’ grip and flipping them over this time with Stiles’s legs locked around his waist.

 

“You have to admit that was pretty good.” Stiles pouting for affect, doing his best puppy dog eyes that are pretty much wasted on Derek but even Deaton gives him a complement from time to time.  

 

“Then you wouldn’t be in this position.” Derek rumbles and Stiles can feel the vibrations from Derek’s chest against his own.

 

“What?” Stiles asks, “You’re not impressed, stunned maybe even awe-struck?”

 

“Not the words I’d use.” Derek and yes he’s smirking for the first time since he drove Stiles home and handed over his prized leather jacket.

 

Derek’s hand comes round the back of his neck and one of Stiles’s snaps to his shoulder automatically keeping a grip in case Derek tries something. “And what about the big bad wolf?” Derek raises and eyebrow. “What does he think?”

 

Derek moves closer, breath ghosting over Stiles’s skin and yeah there’s definite pressing of essential body parts. “He likes how strong you are.”

 

Stiles’s posture beings to relax, “physically or spiritually?”  

 

Derek’s sexy self-confident and smug expression should be illegal. “Both.”

 

“Huh,” Stiles says only now starting to take notice that the hand that isn’t wrapped around his neck is beginning to move down his side towards his hips sending little sparks as it goes. “Well you can tell him, I like him both physically and spiritually.”

 

“Is that so.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles says before gripping Derek’s shoulders with both hands and drawing him in so he can flips them over. “Don’t get distracted.” Stiles tuts.

 

Derek’s obviously given up on the idea of training, one of his hands moving up Stiles’s thigh. It’s what brings Stiles back and he starts moving off of Derek.

 

“I-I,” He stutters fighting down a blush and grabbing his bag and jacket. ”I should go,” Not catching the hardening of Derek’s eyes his expression being closed off. “My dad’s freaking out about the whole late night thing and I’m pretty sure Deaton will want me to do a quick sweep before I get home.”

 

For obvious reasons he can’t meet Derek’s eyes. “Thanks for the training it was fun—useful!” He sighs, “It was useful.” 

 

“Oh god,” he murmurs under his breath practically bursting with embarrassment and he almost runs up the stairs in fact flee would be a better word and Derek probably thinks he’s freaking out because of the touching. The touching was the problem but not a bad problem, he liked it but he just can’t afford sexy-blasé-leather-Alpha wolf distractions not when he’s got to go up against Legos or whatever his name is.

 

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the company he’s sharing when walking down the dark alley towards his jeep.

 

“Leaving so soon.”

 

Great, just what he needs Peter fucking Hale to top off this sundae of a week. The stalker quality Derek obviously inherited from his uncle because ever since Peter was resurrected he pops up everywhere and always at the most inconvenient times.   

 

Stiles continues walking. “I really don’t have time for your crap.”

 

Peter runs to catch up with him. “Always so charming Stiles,” He comments and what is with this guy seriously not for the first time this week Stiles wishes Derek had given him the okay to kill him. “I must say I had no idea seduction was in the How To Be A Slayer handbook.”

 

“Back off.” Stiles snaps but that doesn’t stop Peter from cutting in front of Stiles and blocking his way whenever Stiles tries to move past. “What are you twelve?”  

 

Peter pays him little attention just looks him up and down with a cocked head and his pale blue eyes x-raying every detail it makes Stiles want to shudder with disgust. “You’re all wound up maybe you should have followed through.”

 

“You should butt out of things that don’t concern you.” Stiles says as venomously as possible.  

 

Peter rolls his eyes not at all intimated as per usual. “Or you’ll stab me in the jugular again I’m sure.”

 

Luckily Stiles’s jeep is just ahead and he pushes past Peter making sure he gets a shoulder budge in the process. “A complete psychopath like you deserves no less.” He goes to open his car door but finds that it’s stuck no Peter’s foot is just stopping it from opening. “What it is with you people I’m not a complete psychopath.”

 

Stiles crosses his arms facing up to Peter even when the man leans into his personal space, arm just above Stiles’s head, it really doesn’t help the man is an inch or so taller. “You’re right, you saved Jackson that one time so that must only make you three quarters of a psycho.”

 

He pushes Peter’s foot away with his own so as to get in but not before Peter slams his hand into his jeep (his baby!) no doubt making a dent, what is with werewolves wrecking his car.    

 

“You don’t really think this is going to end well.” Stiles eyes narrow, why the hell does he care?

 

Stiles shoves him back and has him stumbling to regain his balance. “I won’t say it again keep your nose out of my business and stop following me.”

 

He slams his car door a bit too hard trying to ignore Peter’s furious expression out the corner of his eye. He doesn’t hear it as he drives of but it’s soft even a werewolf would have trouble hearing but it’s Peter’s voice cruel and promising, “You’ll see.” 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not meant to date but I think I deserve this you know?” 
> 
>  
> 
> The vamp holds up his hand fighting to get his breath back. “Are you talking to me?”
> 
>  
> 
> “Oh…right.” Stiles says guiltily.

“I mean I’m sixteen,” Stiles tells him as he dodges a punch “I’m practically an adult even though I can’t drink, or have sex, or get married or vote. But still the whole balancing the double life thing, both with the Slayerage and the not-so-much personal life. I mean c’mon I looked after my best friend when he was turned into a werewolf.” He says while off handedly blocking a kick.

 

“And when I’m not doing all that and making time for training and school work, I’m looking after my dad so I think I deserve a bit of self indulgence, er even if that happens to be dating a werewolf and I know,” He confirms before rolling over the vamp’s back and grabbing his stake from his back pocket.

 

“I’m not meant to date but I think I deserve this you know?”   

 

The vamp holds up his hand fighting to get his breath back. “Are you talking to me?”

 

“Oh…right.” Stiles says guiltily staking the bloodsucker before he can get his breath back. Seriously what is his life when he starts using vampires as his therapists?

 

He calls it an early night since Lagos is a no show and trudges all the way home and because this is his life his dad’s not overly happy about him coming home at 10.30.

 

“I get it.” He tells him when he really doesn’t. “You’re sixteen and it’s a Friday night but I would like if you called ahead to tell me you won’t be back from school.”   

 

Stiles grabs the juice carton from the fridge and drinks straight from it. “I was at Scott’s.” His dad slides him a glass and gives him that look that only a parent can. “No I called Melissa,” he sighs dragging a hand through his hair. “Fancy telling me the truth?”

  

“Well you can check drugs and sex cults off your list.”

 

“Stiles,” his dad says in his sheriff cut the crap voice. Stiles wishes he could tell him but he can’t help but be haunted by Deaton’s words. “It’s nothing.” He says pouring himself a glass of juice.

 

His dad looks exhausted too many nights of paperwork and whiskey, unexplained deaths and no explanations. “I’m not going to pretend that these last few years haven’t been tough but the last year or so, especially these last few months you’ve been coming in late hardly in the house on weekends. Don’t get me wrong there’s been no drop in your grades—”

 

“So what’s the problem?” Stiles interrupts.  

 

“I want to know what’s going on with my son.” His dad suddenly shouts. “I want to know why you sometimes come home cover in cuts and bruises, I want to know why sometimes when I’m doing the washing I find blood on your clothes.”  Stiles swallows watches as his dad half buries his face in his hands. “I want to know how you disarmed that Matt Daehler kid back when we had that hostage down in the station.”

 

Stiles remembers Matt had gone all psycho and held them at gunpoint with Jackson. “Werewolves, Hunters, Kanamias.” He’d said so smug and sure “It’s like a freaking Halloween party every full moon.” The turned to Stiles, “Except for you Stiles, What do you turn into?”

 

And Stiles had reacted just as cocky and sure. “The Vampire slayer, but it’s more of a full time thing you know destiny and all.” Before kicking the gun out of Matt’s hand. Then Jackson had stabbed him not so good.

 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Stiles says slowly, “I just need you to trust me.”

 

His dad is grabbing him by the sleeve before he can leave. “Stiles whatever it is—you’re just a kid.” Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I just need you to trust me dad and know when I tell you,” He does his best to give a reassuring smile. “When I was younger and mom use to take me out to soccer practice every weekend and sometimes even on weeknights.” His dad nods.

 

“She was actually taking me to gymnastics.” What Stiles wants to say is _I think she knew, I think deep down she knew what I was and what I had to be ready for._ Or at least that’s the way Stiles likes to think of it. It gets him a laugh and then his dad’s relaxing. And Stiles is laughing uncomfortably with him. “So this whole thing isn’t going to blow over and end with a movie and meat lovers pizza, is it?”

 

“Oh no,” his dad says still laughing, “you’re so grounded.”

 

 “Till when.” Stiles inquires gently.

 

“Till you’re thirty if I have my way.” 

 

“Oh man,” whines Stiles ready to go back up stairs and continue his now-for-sure-not-life.

 

“Ah-Ah,” his dad says stopping him before he can retreat into his bedroom and wallow in his misery. “Car keys.”

 

“But dad,” Stiles wails but his dad just shakes his head hand still extended waiting for them. Stiles shoves them into his hand. “I hate you.” He calls from the stairs. “If you didn’t I’d be doing my job wrong.” His dad calls back.

 

 

.

 

 

It’s Saturday and though Stiles is still grounded his dad buys the whole helping out Deaton scenario when all Stiles is actually doing is training. Stiles is halfway through going to town on a dummy when he stops, Deaton looks up from his boring watcher or vet books, Stiles can never tell the difference. “Are you alright?” He inquires, “You seem distracted.”

 

Stiles shrugs and begins to unwrap the bandages around his fists. “Just not up for the slaying today is all.”

 

“Well if you’re feeling under the weather…”

 

Stiles shakes his head, “It’s not that,” he takes a deep breath strangely enough it feels like a confession. “My dad called me out the other day.”

 

Not that he didn’t have Deaton’s attention before but he moves from confidant to watcher in a flash. “I see.”

 

“I’m pretty sure he’s going to ground me for the rest of time if I don’t come up with an explanation.” 

 

Deaton closes his book and Stiles takes that as sign to sit maybe he’ll even offer Stiles tea and those kit kat biscuits from England that he only gets when he’s good. “It’s your choice whether you tell your father or not.”

 

That totally shocks Stiles. “That’s it, no putting peoples lives in danger talk.”

 

Deaton shakes his head and gives him that look that he only reserves for Stiles. “I think you’re old enough to make that decision for yourself.”  

 

Wow coming from Deaton that means something. “Thanks, I had no idea you thought I was all mature.”

 

Deaton smiles and yeah it’s a rare thing not quite as rare as a certain you know who and we are not meant to be thinking about him at the moment, but it’s a kind one that Deaton usually reserves for an exceptional slay or a well executed flying kick. “You have dealt with things most people you’re age and beyond never will I think that proves you have wisdom well beyond your years.”

 

Stiles smiles back, “Thanks, I think I needed to hear that.”

 

He sighs getting up. “I got to go, Allison promises she’d cover for me with my dad, I’ll patrol see if Lagos turns up looking for the glove of Merlin.”

 

Deaton sighs eyes suddenly on the ceiling but Stiles thinks he’s looking beyond that. “Myhnegon.”

 

“R-right,” Stiles flushes grabbing his bag and giving Deaton a salute before walking out. He comes back a second later.

 

“You’re not taking back that wisdom well beyond your years thing right?” Stiles asks begging with puppy eyes and all.

 

“It would seem balance has been restored to the universe.” Deaton laments.  

 

And thank god for that.

 

.

 

It turns out the book on Lagos does him no justice. He’s much worse. With all the awkward ram horns and tusks and weird scales. He also seems to enjoy kicking Stiles for yards at a time.

 

At this point he’s collided with every gravestone in this joint. In particular Lagos just loves to slam Stiles a few times on the tombs like some broken toy refusing to work. At this moment in time Stiles can feel bruises forming on his bruise.

 

He’s just lucky Lagos isn’t a face guy cause he’d hate to have to explain that to his dad especially after their recent talk.

 

The demon obviously wants this magical mitten really bad because he not letting up at all. Stiles forces himself to his feet because there’s no point lying on the ground where the guy can easily just snap his neck. Stiles aims a punch right in his face before turning and hitting him with an elbow jab. Lagos gives a roar of both frustration and pain, grabbing Stiles by the shoulders not shoving him as hard, disorientated from Stiles jab.

 

It only Stiles had his damn axe with him but no, he had to leave he who must not be named (not the Harry Potter one) place in such a hurry that he forgot the damn thing.

 

Stiles goes for another punch only to have Lagos block it before managing to punch Stiles a few times causing him crying out. It takes more than that to cause him damage though.

 

Stiles butterfly kicks him both his feet catching him in the face one after the other and the demon doubles over. That’s when Stiles’s eye catches the axe Lagos has on his back, shiny, good shiny. Stiles gets his hand on the thing easy giving it a quick swing while Lagos growls at his shiny weapon being stolen.

 

And in the next second his head is hitting the ground. Lagos’s head that is not Stiles’s.

 

Stiles only has a second to bask in the joy and the awesomeness of his advanced and very well preformed Taekwondo kick before Deaton is shouting his name.

 

He takes a second to give Stiles a once over and he sort of appreciates it before he’s looking around. “Where’s Lagos?”

 

Stiles can’t be blamed for this at all okay but at this point he’s still running on adrenaline and the high of just kicking ass and yeah the pain is starting to come back with vengeance and a combination of all these things is making him light headed.

 

Stiles eyes the head before meeting Deaton’s eyes who have seen this to. “He had to head off.” Stiles says and has a second of seriousness before he erupts into badly muffled giggles.

 

Deaton’s eyes just say _why me?_

 

.

 

“Stiles,” Scott hisses slightly in front of him. “Get a move on.”    

 

“Ow,” Stiles says in answer because it’s totally a valid response. Scott is attempting to get him to walk faster to economics class (seriously what kind of a person does that) but every time Stiles takes longer then five seconds to take a step a shooting pain radiates from his hamstring upwards while there is a stabbing pain right along his spin and ribs were the bruises that have died down from a swollen red to a blacky blue colour. It’s lovely.

 

“I can practically smell the blood and broken bones.” Erica comments next to him wrinkling her nose, not at all helping. At least Isaac is helping Stiles a bit though he refuses to be carried through the hall like some damsel in distress. Though he is in distress he is not a damsel no matter what the vampires think.

 

Isaac at least is helping to take some of the pain away but werewolf healing doesn’t really suit Stiles’s healing genes since he’s already jacked up with slayer powers his body tends to not be affected whenever any of the werewolves try to use their mojo.

 

“Maybe we should tell Derek.” Isaac says concern.

 

“No,” Stiles practically shouts and ouch that hurts the ribs. “I mean nothing a few days of meditation, Slayer powers and some good old fashioned aspirin can’t fix.”

 

“Isaac’s right, Stiles.” Boyd says wincing in sympathy when Stiles presses at his ribs in an effort to keep the pain at bay. “You should really go see Derek he’s good at healing the bone thing.”

 

“You know what he’s also good at?” Scott says heading backward and still trying to beckon them to a faster pace. “Breaking them.”

 

Stiles shakes his head leaning into Isaac’s arm a bit more. “No Derek and I haven’t really spoken since Friday.”

 

Erica smirks and a knowing look crosses the others faces they must have had a pack meeting since then or just gossip like old women whenever they meet up. “Trouble in paradise.”

 

“If only there was paradise to begin with.” Stiles hums wistfully.

 

“Yeah,” Erica says and Stiles can tell she’s about to say something he’s not going to like, “maybe then you wouldn’t have to get your satisfaction out of staking vampires all the time.”

 

Stiles eyes narrow, “you know I may be handicapped but I can still kick your ass from here to Timbuktu right?”

 

“I’m well aware.” Erica says sounding like a smartass.  “But I’m pretty sure I can walk faster than you at the moment.”

 

Stiles swipes at her with a growl that would even rival the head alpha himself. The pain is just a delayed affect and the packs back to being concerned and cuddly. “You know what,” Stiles hisses through gritted teeth. “I think I might blow off the rest of school and chase down Captain Eyebrows after all.”

 

Scott doesn’t look like he likes the idea but he nods knowing Stiles won’t let him argue. “I’ll get you econ notes.” Stiles gives him a smile and the rest of the pack to who thankful keep the physical touching down to a minimum since Stiles body really can’t take a pack hug. He likes to think of this as their way of showing love.

 

 

.

 

 

To say Derek was annoyed to see him would be the understatement of the century. In fact the only reason he hasn’t slammed Stiles against the wall like he usually does is because of the obvious pain Stiles is in.

 

“You’re a fucking idiot.” He growls, “Why didn’t you take back up.” Again with the demanding instead of gentle questioning, Jesus. 

 

“I had Deaton.” Stiles says from the mat leaning back slightly so Derek can get a good look at his bruises underneath his tee-shirt. He’s trying really hard not to think about Derek’s hands on his skin and failing miserably.  “It’s not like I have some cavalry waiting over the hill, I do this alone Derek always have always will.”

 

“Don’t remind me.” Derek grunts.

 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Every job has its difficulties.”

 

“It’s not just a job to you.” Derek says coldly being to wrap a gaze bandage around his middle. Stiles’s first aid kit desperately needs restocked but he can’t do so without his dad noticing. Stiles is quiet and lets Derek do his work closing his eyes and just listens to the sound of Derek’s movements.

 

He just breaths slowly attempting to get some meditation done while Derek works. At least his ribs will be healed by the morning which is what seems to be giving him most of the trouble.

 

At the sound of Derek finishing Stiles opens his eyes.

 

Derek not looking at him just packing his stuff up maybe even avoiding Stiles’s eye.

 

Stiles reaches down a finger and traces the knuckles of Derek’s hand that isn’t fumbling with the first aid kit. Then Derek’s hand is clasping his and Stiles is looking at them for a while. There’s a big long meaningful speech the Stiles could say and stumble over while trying to get it out like every time he’s practiced in the mirror instead he just says: “I’m glad you were the first to know, even though I did stab you with an arrow at the time.”

 

It’s the right thing to say because Derek’s angry expression melts away.

 

Derek then cocks he’s head like he’s trying to read between the lines or maybe he figuring out what to say next. But he doesn’t get the chance because Stiles is leaning forward to kiss him.

 

It’s short and sweet, no longer than five seconds, Derek’s lips are surprisingly soft and moist and when Stiles leans back to see Derek’s reaction he watches as pupils swallow up the green irises of his eyes.  

 

And then Derek’s on him literally and Stiles has a few seconds of absolute bliss as Derek nips at his lips, his tongue feeling out every inch of Stiles’s mouth like he’s trying to memorize it before this moment vanishes. Then of course the dreaded stabbing pain reminds Stiles of its presence. Stiles half-heatedly pushes Derek back, hands in his hair, how on earth did they get there? Derek takes a hint but that doesn’t really stop him from mouthing along Stiles’s jaw to his neck.  “Derek,” Stiles says gasping slightly when Derek’s teeth scrape over a particular part of skin and manipulate that point again and again, “as much as I don’t protested to this one bit maybe we could do this later when my ribs don’t feel like crumpled bits of rock.”

 

Derek whines, yes definitely whines but drags himself back from Stiles that however only means lips that doesn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around Stiles and giving him the occasional cheek nuzzle. Okay what monster of a demon turned Derek Hale into a care-bear with fangs and woolfie ears?    

 

“You like me.” Stiles says happily as Derek drags him up onto his feet. Derek growls but he guesses it’s not really serious because he’s nuzzling and kissing Stiles neck again – down boy.

 

“I told you.” Derek says into his ear.

 

“No,” Stiles says with the shake of the head which displeases Derek because movement equals less nuzzle opportunities. “You said and I quote ‘I like how strong you are’ end quote”

 

Derek chuckles in Stiles ear and the sound still startles him but makes his heart do flip-flops in a good way. “I thought it was obvious,” Derek tells him “when I gave you a three hundred dollar leather jacket.”

 

 

.

 

 

Stiles doesn’t vacate Derek’s car at least thirteen minutes after they arrive at his house and yes they do spend most of their time making out, ribs be dammed but Derek is adamant not to push him when he’s in such a ‘fragile state.’ Stiles had punches him on the arm for that one.

 

Stiles gives Derek a final peck but makes no move to retract from Derek’s embrace. “I should probably go before my dad spots us and starts loading his gun.”

 

Derek doesn’t look happy but he let’s Stiles go. “So does this mean we’re dating?” Stiles asks hanging over Derek’s open window. Derek gives him a look that can freeze water, which to Stiles means _yes you idiot ask again and I’ll rip your throat out._

“Just checking.” Stiles says then as an after thought adds, “I can still keep the jacket right?” Derek’s response is to start driving but he doesn’t escape before hearing Stiles yell: ”See you Sourwolf.”

 

Nothing can touch his happy mood not even the sight of his dad waiting for him on the couch. He looks at Stiles with a raised eyebrow saying why are you twenty minutes late we had a curfew. But Stiles couldn’t care less.

 

And he may as well get it over with it will definitely get his dad off his case about the slayer stuff.

 

“I’m dating Derek Hale.” He says practically screaming it to the hills. “Great,” He sighs “now that’s over we can have a mature conversation about it and negotiate the terms of my pending freedom.”

 

His dad doesn’t say anything of three minutes and twenty-one seconds, Stiles times him. “You remember when I said you’d be grounded till you were thirty,” His dad says finally looking at him his anger rivaling all the demons, all the vampires, all the werewolves in the world. “I was wrong. It’s looking to be till you’re a hundred.”

 

Stiles gulps.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The butterfly kick that Stiles used was inspired by Buffy's fight with Caleb and it's just really cool. I know I said I wouldn't write again till Season 3 but I'm just really changeable and watching Buffy and Angel doing Tia Chi gave me plot bunnies! Apologises for any spelling or grammar errors. 
> 
> The next instalment will be entitled: Scythe Matters. I'm sure all you Buffy fans will know what that means :P
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments they make me very happy.

**Author's Note:**

> ** FYI, Peter Hale is actually shorter than Stiles I just changed it for reasons. That is all.


End file.
